


Regret and Regressions (rewrite)

by Writer25



Series: AOB au [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alien!Clark, Aliens, Alpha Clark Kent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mpreg, NSFW, Non-Graphic Smut, OOC Bruce, Sappy, Slow Burn, Superman/Batman - Freeform, but as the story progresses he'll be IC, i'm actual garbage, many OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer25/pseuds/Writer25
Summary: The word "Omega" has a lot of connotations to it. To Bruce, it's "death sentence." On earth, omegas are abused, raped, and forced into passivity by their Alpha counterparts. They're what Clark would call a slave.To Clark, the word "Alpha" doesn't hold a lot of weight. None of those titles do. They're just random assignments at birth that barely affect anyone. However, Clark doesn't know earth, and the darker side it shadows behind its facade of grace and beauty.Earth is desperate. A seemingly peaceful group of aliens with similar biology have arrived in earth, proven to be stronger than anything else on the entire planet. There's always the threat of destruction, and there is no way earth could fight back. So they need to find something to offer up as a peace agreement; and a perfectly groomed, completely compatible, subverted and submissive Bruce Wayne, omega son of a billionaire, is perfect. The arranged marriage is abrupt, but hopefully it will work out in Earth's favor.Once Clark and Bruce's world collide, they're faced with the harsh reality of their different cultures and dispositions, as well as each of their treatments in Earth vs. alien society.Somehow they'll make it work.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alpha And Omega](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047775) by [SuperClark_BatBruce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperClark_BatBruce/pseuds/SuperClark_BatBruce). 



> Sorry it's so short. Just kind of a small introduction to the series. Also a little AU-shadowing (?) to the real superhero world, and I'll probably sprinkle in some references along the way. Next chapter will probably have some flashbacks and make the story more coherent. All comments and kudos are appreciated. Thanks!
> 
> This is the rewrite of my previous fanfic that I felt went in the wrong direction. Until about chapter 6 or 7 there will be no changes, because I still like the beginning of the fic. Thanks for staying with me.
> 
> Love you guys!

_Maybe this could be the kind of one_

_Where I sit on the words_  
 _Or talking through each style_  
 _Everything is overheard_  
 _See everything I take upon loses worth_  
 _Well now that you're not the one that I thought you were_  
 _And it hurts that I'm done_  
 _Now I don't believe in nothing_  
 _Avoiding night, tell me you know_  
  
 _-Chet Faker, Cigarettes and Loneliness_  
  
  
"Do you love me?" My voice is hollow but desperate.  
She says nothing.  
"Do you love me?" I repeat, my body burning and my muscles aching. She looks at me. Glares. Then, her brows furrow. She slaps me.  
"I love you." I say, tears stinging my eyes.  
She slaps me again. Thrusts harder into my body. It hurts so bad. I hurt so bad.  
"I love you." I murmur, tears spilling over the creek of water in my eyelids. She hits me again, harder. She tosses my body aside like a rag doll, my bleeding arms and nose and legs hitting the wall with a sickening crack.  
"I don't need you anymore." She says, voice hoarse. She leaves before I have the chance to convince her to stay.  
"I love you." I whisper, my body shakes with sobs and pain. "I love you."  
  
This time, when I'm back home, he breaks my collarbone out of frustration.

“Bruce, I swear to fuking god, you are ruining the Wayne family name!” He holds me tightly by the neck and takes my shirt off. All the scars, bruises, cuts, wounds I have across my body are in plain sight. He eyes my body and throws me to the ground. I spend all my energy on not screaming out in pain, even though I heard a crack and waves of agony radiate throughout my body in tandem to my rough breathing.

“This is what a failure looks like.” He leaves the room, and I pass out on the mansion floor, the last image I see before it all turns to black is the white rose in my tuxedo’s pocket, which is now a dark shade of scarlet.

I have to spend a couple weeks in the hospital. Somehow, they left me with a bottle of sleeping pills. I take them all at once. They pump my stomach.  
After I’m left alone for a couple days after the procedure, I’m left with a scratchy maroon jumpsuit that aggravates my bruised skin. I stare off into space for hours, thinking of a different life.

In that world, I’m Bruce _Fucking_ Wayne, Alpha son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, authoritative, cool, dominant, respected. I imagine the casinos, the martinis, the drunken nights I spend in motels in Vegas, and the money I have at my disposal. During the day, I’d be Alpha playboy Bruce Wayne, and at night, I’d help suffering omegas who don’t have anywhere to turn. Like I don’t.

I daydream until an unapologetic nurse enters the room and checks my vitals.  
"There's not enough omegas for you to be able to kill yourself,” she states, jotting down my spiking breathing rate.  
At the risk of a slap, I respond, "Maybe if you all made my life worth living," I breathe in. "I wouldn't want to die."  
She looks at me with pity. "Hmm." She hums.

After she leaves, I stand up and walk to the bathroom. My ugly body stares back at me. I breathe.  
“Are you okay?”

I look at my bloodied hands and my old scars on my forearm. I look at the cuts all across my body. I look at the words I etched out with a knife in my chest. It may just look like an assortment of lines  
Those words are foreign to me.  
I open my mouth slightly. "Will I ever learn to love again?"  
My reflection looks back at me. "I hope so."  
I leave.  
  
 _Breathe, this is love without love without love without love without love without love_  
  
 _Breathe, this is love without love without love without love without love without love_

"Bruce." My father's voice is dripping with anger. "This is your last chance. If you come home from this, if you fuck this up, I have every right to snap your neck."  
He doesn't. Omegas are protected from death because of their rarity, especially males. Still, I know he means it.  
I almost want to fuck it up so I die.  
"His name is Clark. He is the prince of Krypton."  
I say nothing.  
"Bruce, you’re standing between peace and intergalactic war."  
I say nothing. I almost believe him  
"Don't fuck this up, I swear."  
I say nothing.

_Breathe, this is love without love without love without love without love without love_


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm not super happy about this chapter, and it's really short, but it'll do for now.  
> PLEASE, don't hesitate to leave comments and give criticism. It won't hurt my feelings, I promise.]
> 
> I'm going to leave my old notes in brackets and the new ones in regular format, like so.   
> Thanks for staying with me guys. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, so be aware for that. I fixed some grammar and formatting, but that's it for this chapter. Your support is greatly appreciated! :)  
> Sidenote: Please leave me comments so I can validate myself as both a human being and as a writer. Thx.

_I’ll be the falling bodies, floor by floor_

_I want to watch them now, what were they thinking then_

_I’ll be the falling bodies, floor by floor_

_I want to watch them now, what were they thinking then_

 

_-Vaults, Bodies_

 

 

As Thomas Wayne was on his deathbed, all his memories came flooding back, especially those of Bruce. Especially the ones he felt guilty about.

 -

_“Oh, hello, Wayne.” Lionel Luthor smirked, sitting across the table from Thomas. “How’s Bruce?”_

_Thomas narrowed his eyes. “He’s fine, Luthor, but I’m not here for pleasantries.”_

_“So you’re here to offer up your son to mine, I assume?”_

_“Depends.” Thomas sat back and crossed his arms. “What are you willing to give up?”_

_“Why should I give you anything for him?”_

_“Cut the shit. You know.”_

_Lionel’s smile widened. “Tell me, Wayne.”_

_Thomas grunted. “Bruce is my only child. Martha and I can’t have anymore children, as she’s infertile now. And once I die, since he’s an omega, whoever he’s wed to will inherit the Wayne fortune. So what will you give up to turn Wayne enterprises into Luthor enterprises?”_

_“What would you take?”_

_“At the lowest… four billion dollars.”_

_Lionel gaped. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. Half of our wealth?_

_“You’re not just paying for Bruce. You’ll gain 27 billion dollars once Lex inherits his fortune.”_

_“I won’t get that money, Lex will.”_

_“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t give anything to decimate Wayne enterprises. Do you know how much less competition you’ll get? Besides, I’m going to die soon. Even if all of that goes to Lex, it still means less competition for you. I’m sure if you make this deal Lex will agree to give you some 5 billion dollars and then you can retire. You won’t have to deal with doing business anymore, and all your money will be stagnant.”_

_Lex contemplated this. “Hmm.”_

_“Just think about it, Lionel.”_

- 

Thomas convulsed with disgust for himself. He would give anything for Bruce to not suffer the life of an omega. But there was nothing he could have done to save him. So he did the next best thing; saving his wife.

 -

_“Thomas, are you okay?” Martha sat on the bed, watching him come into the room frustrated._

_“I’m fine, Martha.” He gives a weak smile. “It’s Bruce I’m worried about.”_

_Martha frowns. “What happened?”_

_“I gave up Bruce to Lex.”_

_Martha gasped. “Why?”_

_“For 4 billion dollars. That nobody knows about. It’s not a part of our business, so it won’t go to Bruce’s… Alpha.” Thomas cringed saying the word. “I can give it to you. Maybe you can go somewhere remote.”_

_“What about Bruce?”_

_“I can either help you and have Bruce stuck with some horrific alpha. Or, once I die, you and Bruce can_ both _be stuck with some horrific alpha. I can’t help Bruce either way.”_

_“How am I supposed to let that happen?”_

_“What else could I do? I’m sorry, Martha. I don’t know what to do.”_

_Martha sighed. “Me neither. I just wish there was an alpha like you for Bruce to marry.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Sometimes I wonder if there are any alphas left who don’t treat omegas like slaves anymore.” Martha remarked._

_“Me too.”_

_-_

“Bring Martha in.” He growled in his trademarked alpha manner.

He even had to maintain the masquerade as he was about to die. He wasn’t about to blow his cover when he was so close to saving her.

She walks in, her eyes overtly puffy from crying. She’s doing her best, to cover it up, though. A smile is plastered across her face, but her small frame is obviously shivering and racked with previous tears and sorrow.

“Hey, Thomas. You okay?”

He laughed weakly. “No.”

“What will happen to Bruce?”

“He still has eight years until… Lex.”

“What will happen to him when I leave?”

“I… don’t know.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting this happen.”

“What else can I do?”

Her face scrunches up, but it soon mellows and relaxes. “It’s okay. I’ll let Bruce in.”

He’s still small, even for an omega, but his face proves a maturity Thomas didn’t expect. It’s not like they spend that much time together, anyway.

“Father.” Bruce regards him with a small nod.

“Bruce…” Thomas gives a slight smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to… spend that much time with you.”

Bruce snaps his head up with a quixotic look.

Thomas immediately winces. Of course Bruce isn’t used to alphas apologizing. Thomas is always so busy, never has time for Bruce, so he must be used to perpetually demanding alphas.And, of course, Thomas would burden him with one for the rest of his life. As many hours as he spent telling himself that this was the only option, it never did make him feel any less guilty. He gave Bruce a small smile.

“You’ll be alright, bud.”

The nine-year-old flushes a bit.

“I love you.” Thomas says.

Bruce says nothing.

It’s the first step on the long stairway of silence.

His death sentence was looming. Bruce left the room and didn’t look back.

 

_Any second now_

_Any second now_


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is steps away from meeting Clark. He looks back and reflects on the past.  
> It makes him feel more guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ There was a lot taken out of me today. Writing this chapter helped center me. I hope you enjoy!  
> PLEASE don't hesitate to leave comments! I appreciate every single one I get! They really brighten my day, so if you're feeling like it, leave this story a comment. Tell me if you love it, hate it, if I made any mistakes, any advice, or anything else at all! :)  
> This might be my last chapter in a while, since NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. Friend me there! ]  
> Ya bitch was very thirsty for comments, I see. I still am tho. Anyway, I'm sorry this chapter is a bit late. I reworked it a little but not enough for it to be super belated like it was. I just landed a job for the summer so it was a bit hectic. Student loans and such...  
> Thanks for reading!

_I hope you don't regret it_

_I pushed a lot back but I can't forget it_

_We never got the credit_

_Nobody seemed to hear us but we said it_

 

_\- The Neighbourhood (NBHD), You Get Me So High_

  

 

"Okay, Bruce, you are going to meet Clark in five minutes. It's imperative that this goes well so peace can remain between our worlds." A lady says, most likely a beta. "You do whatever he says, no matter what. Okay?"

I say nothing.

My hair is smoothed. They have dressed me in the most fancy thing I've worn since Lex abandoned me; a suede, classic omega outfit, with my signature white rose in the jacket’s pocket.

My breath hitches and trembles.They are prepping me for my marriage with the alpha I have yet to meet. Our first introduction, only days before we’re officially wed, is about to occur.

Hopefully, he’ll like me. Maybe if I try my best to be silent, yielding, the most subservient I could be, he’ll be more gentle on me tonight.

My brain shouts out a cacophony of thoughts as I think about it.  
She leads me to the door, where I will be claimed by a man from another planet. She opens it and I see him in all his alien glory. He is the most handsome thing I have ever laid my eyes upon.  
He's gorgeous. His eyes are a beautiful golden with flakes of amber sparks, and his jawline is sharp enough to slice through metal. He's tall, about 6'7"; he's eleven inches taller than me. He seems about twenty-four, maybe a bit older. He's very built; you can see his muscles through his suit, even through the many layers he's most likely wearing.  
His scent is like nothing I've ever smelled before.

My breathing stops, and I can't move. My eyes are glaring, unwavering.

"What are you doing?" The lady hisses under her breath.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Hold it!" She glares at me.

"I'm going to..." my stomach rumbles. She catches on.

After she points me to the bathroom I vomit everything inside of me and smack my head against the wall.

 

I take another look in the mirror. Even though they’ve dressed me up and wiped away all visible imperfections from my body, I can see beneath the semblance of ‘perfect’ they tried to disguise me with. If I take the loose tuxedo, stretch the collar out a bit, I can see all the blemishes on my skin. The cuts, the contusions, the scars that won’t fade no matter how long I wait, are still apparent, and they forever stain my body.

I’m made of carpet and the marks are red wine; you can pretend the stain doesn’t exist, cover it up with a well placed couch or table, or even religiously attempt to scrub it out or wait it out and hope that either way it’ll fade; but the only way to truly uncorrupt the forever contaminated carpet is to rip it from its’ grounds and replace it with a new, better model. Maybe a carpert that would take kindlier to the spills of wine you drip those nights when you want to bleach your mind with alcohol.

I know I’ve had my fair share of nights like those.

I’m not blameless for my imperfections. It’s my fault that I can’t quite seem to be the right partner for any alpha that wants me. Maybe if I was more comforting, more obedient, adroit at the innate skills I’m supposed to harbour, Lex wouldn’t have beat me and left me on the side of the road, stripped naked, bare of all my dignities. I know deep down in my heart no matter what  could’ve done for him to keep from abandoning me.

Usually, it was different. I was a bad omega. I didn’t deserve them. I’m too needy, too deceitful, too opaque, too fitful, too sporadic… it was always my fault. I was always too… everything. These scars represented everything I’m not. Blameless.

There are some directly caused by me. I lift my left thumb to the under-forearm to my right and smudge the concealer a bit. A tender, fleshy red scar is glaring out from my wrist, like a demon with eyes of red that can see into your soul. This scar reads me like a book; slowly, but carefully. It inspects my every movement and the decisions I make.

I was so close that time. _A couple more centimeters, and he might’ve died._

I deserve it. I deserve the haunting plagues that torment my skin. I deserve for Clark to see my awful body and reject me. I don’t deserve this tuxedo or the desperate attempts to make me perfect. I don’t deserve a second chance. A third chance. Fourth chance.

Clark… does he know what he’s in for?

Do _I_ know what I’m in for?

I try to keep his handsome physique and intoxicating bouquet out of even the depths of my mind.

It’s hard for me to fend him off from my mind. Maybe he won’t be as bad as I think he’ll be?

 _What the fuck are you doing?!_ I yell in my mind. Out of sight, out of mind…

 

_If we can leave it all behind us_

_And meet in-between_

_If we could agree to disagree_

_And keep on reaching_

 

I hit the wall with my fist. I shed a tear from my bloodshot eye. If I mess this up, I’ll never be forgiven. No more unneeded "second" chances. This is much worse than failing Lex, though. Or any other alpha I’ve tried so hard to keep.This could mean death, they kept saying to me. If this goes wrong, the entire human race could be annihilated. I can’t let down my new stepfather like that. I can’t let down mother like that.

I take a ragged breath and wipe a tear off my cheek with my oversized sleeve.I carefully wash my eyes, making sure not to erase any makeup that conceals everything I’ve done wrong. My eyes are still red, but I look presentable enough.  
I must face him. I wash my mouth out, wash my hands, and I put on a stoic look. Take another shaky breath, and then place my hand on the cold knob of the bathroom door. Breathing once more, I open it with hesitation and I return to the entrance, where my suitor stands before me.

 

_Wish I didn't doubt it_

_I wish I never ever told you all about it_

_But I just had to let you know_

_I never meant to hurt you, though_

_I had all my motives_


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark meet for the first time.
> 
> Even though he's been preparing for this his whole life, Bruce still wasn't ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Ughh. No matter how many times I re-wrote this chapter, it never felt right. Still doesn't. At least it's here, though. I needed a bit of a break from my depressing-af NaNoWriMo story.
> 
> So I decided to work on another depressing-af story. Luckily I had a lot of time to write, because I was too busy vomiting to go to work. So... here. Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos mean a lot to me. Tell me what you think about this story! Is it cringey? Stupid? Cool? Well-written? Poorly-written? Tell me! ]
> 
> Hello, folks!  
> I know its been like 4 months and this is very late, but I've finally returned from my hiatus! It feels good to be back. Here's the next chapter. Fixed a couple typos, and fixed some formatting. Hope you enjoy!

_I just want to feel safe in my own skin_

_I just want to be happy again_

_I just want to feel deep in my own world_

_but I'm so lonely I don't even want to be with myself anymore_

_On a different day if I was safe in my own skin_

_then I wouldn't feel so lost and so frightened_

_But this is today and I'm lost in my own skin_

 

_-Dido, Honestly OK_

 -

_As Martha walked out of her dying husbands’ room, locked hands with Bruce, she made herself a promise. She promised she wouldn't leave with the money. She was going to be there for Bruce, even if Thomas was too much of a coward to even do that. Although a part of her always said she was lucky to have a husband that treated her like a human being, she was always one to face the truth and not sugarcoat things for herself. Thomas was sweet, compassionate, and loving to her, he was nothing but stolid with Bruce. Even since he was born, Bruce was divided from his father, and both he and Martha could tell Thomas never even liked him like he loved Martha._

_He was too much of a coward to let her live her predestined life. He was such a coward, he sold his own son._

 -

_Bruce twiddled his fingers lightly as he waited for Lex to get home. He was probably going to ask about the test, and Bruce obviously hadn't taken it. Lex had said that if this one is negative, he will take Bruce to the doctor. Which wouldn't be bad in normal circumstances, because Lex was overtly more cordial outside of the house, but this was a conversation he didn't want to have. Especially after the bad funk Lex had been in for the last week or so._

_Today, he was especially angry._

_He came home and slammed the door, yanking his tie off. “Fucking useless…” He grumbled a couple more expletives and pulled off the shirt that stuck to his chest with sweat._

_“Lex? Are you okay?” I asked meekly._

_“Don't.” He commanded, an edge to his voice. “You will call me Master. How many times do I need to say it for it to get through your thick skull?”_

_“No more, Master.”_

_“Have you prepared my shower?”_

_I nodded._

_“When I speak to you, you speak back!” He shouted gruffly. He usually enjoyed my silence. I guess today, he just wanted another reason to be angry._

_“Yes, Master.” I rasped._

_“Good.” He narrowed his eyes. “Have you done the test yet?”_

_I gulp. “No, Master.”_

_“Fucking do it then!” He slammed the door. I heard his footsteps angrily stomp and then gradually faint away._

_I gulped again. Looked at the pregnancy test. I threw it on the ground, watched it break, and ran down the stairs with tears stuck to my eyes._

 -

_And I'm so lonely I don't even want to be with myself anymore_

 -

I walk out of the bathroom, my composure intact. I might be shivering a little, but it’s unnoticable. Even though giving myself another minute might make my eyes less red, but the sooner I face Clark, the sooner it’ll be over. Also, he may not be as angry at me if I’m a bit less late. So I brush off my suit and open the door. I see him in the center of the room, talking to Earth diplomats.

His is the quintessence of perfection.  
  
We make eye contact, and I turn away, blushing. For some reason he walks up to me.

"Hello." He speaks. I meet his eyes. Then I look to the ground. "It is nice to meet you, Bruce."  
He's obviously been learning our language for a long time, his accent only slightly apparent and his pronunciations extremely precise. His voice is gentle, unlike all the other alphas I've met. He still radiates alpha through his posture and body language... but his words and his eyes are soft. I begin to wonder what his intentions are.  
I bow, my arms tight and my hands holding the other’s elbow, in a traditional omega show of submission. His body tenses but his face remains unchanged. I wonder what that means. I got lost in my own thoughts.

Clark lightly rests his hand on my shoulder, his hand warm. I blink and look up to him.

“Are you okay?”

I bite my lip and nod. Lost in his eyes.

He looks away and slightly blushes. “I…” He trails off. “Need to…”

He backs away with his hands in fists, his knuckles white.

I blink. The color leaks back into my face. I look around. The Kryptonian embassy, the Earth embassy; they're all present. I must be on my best behavior.

_What was I thinking?_

_Fuck._

I sit on a chair, giving the best smile I can muster to people that walk by, but I never engage with them.  
You don't make small talk with an omega. I prefer to be an observer, anyway.

Cordial conversation is abundant and treaties are signed, Clark is interviewed and is overtly charming, and the reporters eat up everything he says. At one point, a kryptonian reporter approaches me and asks for an interview, and I apologize and tell him I'm an omega. His brows furrow but he walks away.

The Kryptonians act very differently than humans.

After the excruciatingly long gala concludes, everyone leaves to let Clark and I get to know one another. That's when I gulp and begin to sweat a bit.

Once they are gone, he walks over to me, a more gentle posture and caring eyes.  
"Hello." He says again. He sounds nervous, and I reflect on how his first couple words to me also encoded a bit of anxiety in them.

Again, I say nothing. I'm too busy trying not to throw up.

"Are you alright, Bruce?"  
Somehow I'm able to open my mouth without vomiting.  
"I'm fine, Master."  
He blushes. "You really do not have to call me that. Clark would be fine."  
"Uhh.. of course." I say politely.

"I guess..." He starts, crimson running across his face. "We..."  
Nothing, for a long time.  
"Should get to know each other. Since, of course, we will be mates soon."

I say nothing.

“I am no more used to this as you are.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can start. My name is Clark, as you know, but in Kryptonian my name is Kal-El. I am the equivalent of a chemist on Krypton.”

I clench my fists.

"You are very quiet." He remarks.  
I say nothing.  
"Why is that?"  
"I'm not allowed to speak unless invited to, Master." I mumble.  
He winces and says, "That seems kind of outdated, yeah? We don't do that on Krypton. You can speak whenever you would like with me."  
"Umm, okay." I say despite myself. Anxiety is radiating from my body, he must smell it in my scent. "May I-I ask you a… a question?"  
"Of course." He smiles.  
"Why'd you choose me?" I say anxiously.

He laughs.  
"Why would I not?"  
I look at him quixotically.  
He looks at me with a sparkle in his eye and a friendly smile.  
"Can I get to know you?”

 -

_I just want to feel safe in my own skin_

_I just want to be happy again_


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Prolly garbage. It's in the incorrect format, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting. I'll post another chapter on Christmas as a lil holiday present from me to you. Sorry it's been so long. Don't think I ever stated this, but I don't have a beta (pun intended), and I never spell checked this chapter so it probably had a lot of spelling mistakes. Oh, and congrats to deckturbine for guessing a couple plot points. I won't tell you which ones. ;) ]  
> Welp. we're omitting the fifth chapter. Let's not get into it.  
> I'm back! Don't have a lot of energy so let's get this shit over with.  
> Very minimal edits made, I'm just very busy. I'll see you guys very soon! (hopefully...)

_I’m going to die here._  
_I’m going to die here._  
_I’m going to die here._  
_What will he think?_  
_Lex says I’m lucky he won’t tell. I’m not sure if it’s luck or not._  
_What would they do if they knew? What would he do if he knew?_  
_My head is pulsing like my heart, and I can’t tell which bones are broken and which are just bruised. The pain all slurs together in my head._  
_I’m going to die here._  
_I’m going to die._  
_I’m going to._  
_I’m going._  
_I’m._  
_._

I wake up in the morning to an abrupt silence and the smell of cigarette smoke.  
I'm in a bed that's at least three times the size of any I've ever seen, and around me are foreign objects that look like they belong in a science fiction movie instead of my room.  
Apparently they want to keep Clark and I separate until bonding day arrives, do we have different bunks in different rooms. I'm not quite sure where they put him.  
I had a dream last night. He was whispering to me, speaking sentences I don't remember. All I could remember is his voice. It's like melting caramel. At first it oozes, then, it hardens as soon as you remember the implications.  
His speech pattern intrigues me. It's an odd amalgamation of strange word usage, high vocabulary and a distinct lack of contractions.  
Our meeting was cut short by the prospect of dinner. They lead me to a seat next to Clark and sit me down, reminding me to use proper etiquette as though I'm six years old. As soon I sat down, Clark gave me a friendly smile that morphed into a blush. He looked away, cheeks burning, and mine became hot as well.  
Why was he blushing?  
I kept to myself as the rest of the table discussed economic and political affairs of the recent assimilation of our cultures. I sit there, only able to stomach a sip of the water I have before my stomach begins doing flips and I clench my hands together. Me next to the tall kryptonian, my future mate; I remain but an accessory for him to flaunt. Luckily I came to terms with that long ago, shortly before I married Lex. Except I don't know why anymore. With Lex I understand; he wanted my father's inheritance. With Selina, I do too. Although I feel bad for her, as she used me to put herself back together again, instead of a place of greed. Her father was never a good man; I think he was perpetually disappointed with her, as well as her mother. She was beat as a child. I think he made her feel weak and powerless. Being able to use and control me allowed her to feel somewhat powerful and strong again. But his intentions are far more blurred. He's not broken, he's not greedy, he's not hurting, he's not going to get a special title now. ‘Bruce Wayne's Alpha’ used to be sort of a status symbol. Now, it represents an alpha whose standards have dropped so low they don't care how incompetent and useless I am.  
What is he going to gain from this?  
I psychoanalyzed further as the ret of the table droned on; I don't even remember what they were talking about at that point. All I remember was that Clark’s cheeks were red for the rest of the night.  
Eventually we parted to our separate bedrooms to rest up for the day in front of us. I'm not sure what it's going to encompass, but I refuse to let my guard down even slightly yet. I will be prim and proper and give no hint to my true self.  
I have to carve out a new mask to hide my disfigured form; an all-but-technicolor shattered frame of shame, regret, and hate.  
I'm seething with hate. For Lex? …maybe. I'd never admit it aloud, but I do hate him slightly… but he's not all to blame. I shoulder most of it, anyway, so I don't deserve to be hateful when I deserve none but to be hated.  
This time, I can be perfect. I can wipe my slate clean and hide all the hate inside of me. I can learn to be the perfect omega; then maybe my scars will get to fade before new ones erupt in my flesh.  
Carving out a new personality is like modeling a piece of clay. I remember when I was in grade school, before I had presented, we used to take a ceramics class where we would try to make a clay sculpture. It was almost euphoric; the notion that any mistake can be scraped off or completely overturned no matter how big it was. If the sculpture had an all-eclipsing mistake, you could just ball the clay up and start over. That's what I'm doing now. Taking myself, all the mistakes, too many to scrape off, and balling it up. Forcing it together until it's a perfect round sphere. From there, I can make anything I want.  
I carve out a better temperament. Docile, submissive, with a touch of timidity. I accidentally add too much timid and scrape it away. There! Perfect. It's done.  
Next I work on my mental state. Shattered and jagged? On an omega, never. I carve in a shallow minded, command taking mentality into myself. Almost like a robot. Dedication solely on service. An omega’s mind is so basic; it takes very little time to perfect this aspect.  
Next, is the overhaul; personality. I can't even roll this one up. I can't fix it.  
But luckily, I can replace it.  
I throw away the stale persona into the recesses of my memory and work on a new one. Intelligent? I wouldn't say I ever was, but I need to chop that one down to at least a fifth of its previous size. Curious? Completely decimated. Humorous? Never. Leadership? Burned at the stake.  
I'm not sure if I ever really encompassed much of those traits, but i know they need to be taken down to a zero. Completely off the table. Now comes what we do want. I sculpt a portion of agreeable and insert chunks of low maintenance. I peel away excess gunk to reveal Maternal motivation and carve a hunk of Insecure out of the clay and model in shy but serviceable.  
I stand back and look at my work.  
This will do. It has to.

  
They'll finally love me. I'll finally be cured.

  
I'll finally be perfect.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce spend some time alone.
> 
>  
> 
> Bruce's distracted for most of the time, as per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ MERRY CHRISTMAS (and/or any other holiday you might celebrate)!!!!!!  
> I kept my promise. I'm pretty proud of myself. This chapter is a bit longer than usual, and I don't really love it, but I needed some Bruce/Clark interaction even though I SUCK at dialogue.  
> *sigh*  
> PLEASE give me comments down below! Make it your Christmas (and/or any holiday you might celebrate) present from you to me. I'd really appreciate it!
> 
> *IMPORTANT NOTE*  
> I know I haven't done song lyrics for the last two chapters. I've had to write them exclusively on my phone because my roommate and my computer is broken. Hopefully I'll be able to add them back in, and fix the atrocious formatting after the computer is back in service. ]
> 
> I’m just gonna leave this here. Merry friggin new year, and thank you for your continued support.

I know he noticed the difference.  
I'm not caught off guard by his voice, or by the questions (however unusual it may be) that he asks. He looks at me with confusion in his eyes but he never says anything. He knows I'm acting different.  
The night before, it is decided that Clark and I should spend entire day to “get acquainted”. I prayed it doesn't mean what I think it means.  
Of course I wake up at 4:30 in the morning. The routine has been pounded into my head so violently that it's a habit, and I don't dare break it and risk needing it later.  
I wake up, climb out of bed, change into the clothes I've been given, brush my teeth, wash my face, and do all the other shit everyone else does in the morning. Then, I conceal all the tiny imperfections across myself, and double check to make sure nothing is visible, even when I have no clothes on. I can’t predict what the day will bring.

The day so far began normally, as I would expect. Just like any other day, so far. However, it abruptly changes about two hours and thirty-eight minutes after I woke up.  
Clark walks in and immediately I lose my breath. His hair is ruffled and he's wearing a ragged t-shirt and sweatpants, unlike I've ever seen him in; he usually dresses so formal. Now, he stands in the doorway and looks at me.  
“Good morning, Bruce.” He speaks with a light upturn of his lips.  
“Good morning.” I respond.  
He looks at what I'm wearing. “You can wear casual clothes if you would like… we are not going to be interviewed or photographed today.”  
“Okay. I'll change.”  
He bites his lip slightly. “I mean… if you would like.” He slowly closes the door and I see a hint of red on his cheeks as it closes.  
I change quickly and leave the room, uncomfortably wrapping my arms around myself, like a defense mechanism.  
His whole face is red. Mine begins to burn too.  
Why is this so complicated? Why is this so different from anything I've ever done, anyone I've ever met before?  
His hand brushes mine and I'm immediately flooded with emotion and I flinch and pull back instinctively.  
He retracts his hand sheepishly but doesn't say anything more on the matter.

I wish I could ask him to hold my hand.

  
He definitely knows I'm broken.  
He's gentle with me, like I could break at any second. He doesn't give me any instructions.  
In fact, he barely speaks at all.  
It's definitely effective in making my heart lurch out like it wants to touch his.  
I remember the quiet.  
It was almost tangible, the whole day. I said nothing. Not a single word. I wouldn't let my guard down.  
He speaks minimally. He asks me what I'd like to do, and he’s met with radio silence. I speak in static, garbled words and stuttered letters cling to my tongue, and nothing comes out. He looks at me with a sort of confused authenticity. I make note of his expression.

  
I think he's trying to get my guard down. Like Lex. Make me open up and expose myself so he can bury himself in my flesh and sting me where it burns.  
I almost believe him for a second when he looks me right in the eyes after we finish watching a movie.  
I don't know what he's doing. I don't know why he hasn't bonded me yet. Claimed me. Made me his.  
I know my past mark still showed a bit, but at this point it just looked like a light pink scar running down my throat. And even if it did bother him, I'd imagine he'd want to cover it up with his own mark. Rip out the memories of past Alphas I've had.  
Doesn't he want to erase the memories so he can make new ones?  
He sees my hands shake as I lay on the couch. My whole body is slightly shivering, and I can tell he knows it isn't from the cold.  
He reaches out his hand slowly. Inch by inch. Making sure I don't shatter. He brings it closer. Looks at me with comforting eyes. His scent is like cinnamon. It makes me want to bury my head in the crook of his neck and wrap my arms around him. He's almost a foot taller and at least 50 pounds heavier than me from all his muscles. He'd be able to protect me.  
Reality stops for a second. He blinks. I say nothing. He clasps my hand with his and looks away. I think he's blushing again.

I’m caught off guard by his touch. His hands are soft and gentle and they squeeze my hand very lightly, just enough for me to know that he can protect me with his strength but not enough to actually hurt me. I see him look over to make sure he's not crushing my hand, and then his eyes meet mine. I almost want to break down all the barriers I put up; the mask seems silly and childish now. But I don't. I stay strong willed and refuse to let myself get hurt again. So I look away from him and don't look him in the eyes. It's not too late for me now. There's still a chance he won't abandon me: it’s all I can hope for at the moment, no matter how slim the chances may be. So I stay in with him. I stay silent for the rest of the day as we watch a lot of different movies and shows and play cards. His presence is comforting albeit nerve-wracking, and I still don’t know what to make of all of this. What to make of him. Something about him is just so... alien.

He gets up, tells me something about business that needs tending to for a little bit. His words come out slightly jumbled and sound a bit odd. He looks sheepish but I don't say anything. Instead, I meet his eyes, as if to tell him I understand. He walks away. I look out the window.

There they are. The beautiful stars that I wish I could touch. Instead, they're swallowed by the darkness as the shuttle slowly spins about. Yet more are spit back out from the darkness on the opposing side. It’s nice to know they’ve followed me all the way up here. Adjacent is a marble of blue and green and white, beautiful, unmoving. It shifts uncomfortably at the precipice of the shuttle’s make-shift horizon. It seems lonely. It feels... sad. I wonder if it misses me, at all, perhaps; I used to tend to it, the soil and the trees, the plants and the wildlife. I felt at home within the wilderness. Here is so different, though. I never imagined I'd leave Gotham, much less earth's atmosphere. It almost makes the whole arranged marriage thing worth it...

The stars say something unintelligible, and they remain, adrift in a broth of black. They lose their luster after a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I got pissed that SuperClark_BatBruce never finished their Alpha and Omega story, so I decided to try one of my own. Only really the general idea (arranged marriage, alpha/omega, alien clark) was preserved. That story was so good and I'm so sad it only ever made it to chapter 4. Oh well. I'll probably abandon this one soon enough anyway.  
> ( love you guys by the way, your stories are awesome. no shade ;] )


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